


Needle and Thread

by LivelyColorfulWorld



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming of Age, Day 3: Choices | Regrets, Feelings, Growing Pains, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Symbolism, day 6: time | devotion, mentions of underage smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivelyColorfulWorld/pseuds/LivelyColorfulWorld
Summary: Donghyuck is a tempest, fast and fierce, and Mark is desperate to catch up from where he stands on the ground.He leaves in a flurry of wind and rain, yet wobbles back to Mark's house, to Mark's arms, because he knows Mark will be there to catch him. Every single time. It's what Mark has always done.After all, it hurts to see the person you care about have so little regard for themselves. Mark hopes the care he offers is enough for them both.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	Needle and Thread

**Author's Note:**

> ohhh boy here we go  
> this fic means . so so much to me. yeah. this was honestly really difficult to write but<3 this was really indulgent anyways  
> thank u sm to my wonderful beta as always (seriously u started editing the second i sent the fic omg) and dev for letting me spam u w/ ideas + panicked rambles, and overall spill my thoughts in ur dms:) i love u  
> this takes place in america<3 i think it's pretty obvious but yes! just wanted to point that out  
> hope you all enjoy!!

  
  


"You need to stop doing this."

Mark's voice is too loud to his own ears, reverberating off of the chipped tiles of his bathroom. The ticking clock in his room fills the silence, half-heartedly, because it knows it'll be there even without the quiet tension in the air. Time's always been like that, sealing the gaps between the past and present and future until it's one line, one thread that Mark follows blindly with the hopes that it'll lead to somewhere.

"I know."

Stubborn. The words are stubborn, forced through gritted teeth as Mark kneels before Donghyuck, gently wiping away the crimson blood trailing down his cheek. His knuckles are pale from gripping the toilet cover he's sitting on, and he's blinking rapidly. He's had too much to drink. Mark sighs, folding over the white towel once the clean surface has been stained red.

In Donghyuck, he sees a bright-eyed boy no older than twelve, an exhausted high-schooler with a jagged cut through his eyebrow, and a man with a navy blazer and a gaze hardened by the world. His eyes will always be the same, though. Mark knows this for sure.

He watches Donghyuck and Donghyuck watches him. Waiting. Blood has begun to well at the surface of the cut again, so Mark gives in and leans forward, pressing the towel against Donghyuck's eyebrow as Donghyuck hisses in pain.

"Are you ever going to stop?"

Mark asks this as if he doesn't know the answer. The answer is one he's heard over and over again, a broken record in Donghyuck's vocal cords.

"I will."

He wants to believe Donghyuck. But as Mark pulls away and sees the towel ruined to a bright red, he knows it's a lie. He turns away to clean off the towel, wringing it out under the icy cold water of his faucet, and pretends like he doesn't see Donghyuck clench the toilet cover just a bit tighter.

"Okay."

It’s easiest to let it go, and Mark knows that. But he’s terrified that if he does, Donghyuck will slip away, tumbling farther and farther until he’s out of reach. 

Mark used to thank Donghyuck as well; a simple, foolish phrase said in the hopes that Donghyuck will change his mind, change the routine they’ve been stuck in for months. But there's nothing to thank when Donghyuck will show up to his window a week from now, when they both have school and tests the next day, bleeding red and pretending like he's not crying crystalline. It's a tiresome dance, monotonous as Mark leads an unsteady Donghyuck through his room and to his bathroom, his parents sleeping next door and unaware of the boy they treated as their own son filled to the brim with the very substances they had warned against.

Sometimes it hurts to see the person you care about have so little regard for themselves. So Mark hopes the care he offers is enough for them both.

—

Donghyuck and Mark make for an odd pair. They always have, right from the moment they met. Donghyuck was all pudgy cheeks and had the loudest voice in the entire school, and Mark was the quiet student in the back of the classroom, preferring to read and write stories over interacting with anyone. Donghyuck had changed that, barreling into his life with a poorly-made paper airplane and a lopsided grin. Since then, they’ve been inseparable, trekking through the world with intertwined hands.

The world has tried to split them up more times than Mark can count, but each time, they’ve found their way back to each other. Whether it was meeting up behind the bleachers before lunch, or spending time after school together, they’ve always made it work.

During free period, he and Donghyuck always meet up at the left-most table in the cramped school library. They claimed the table for themselves back in sophomore year, hidden behind the rows of bookshelves to swap stories and help each other with homework.

As Mark scribbles a problem onto his notebook,Donghyuck leans over and props his head on Mark’s shoulder, drumming his fingers against the cheap plastic of the table. 

“Can I help you?” Mark asks dryly.

Donghyuck hums. "Potential energy," he reads off of the textbook sitting open in front of Mark. "You have plenty of it."

Mark shakes Donghyuck off and glares at him. "You make me sound boring."

"Well, maybe because you are," Donghyuck shoots back, eyes sparkling with mirth, and Mark can't find it within himself to argue.

"Then you're kinetic energy," Mark says instead, pointing to the symbol on a page.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at this. "Why? Because I'm an unstoppable force or something?"

"Because you literally never shut up."

Donghyuck kicks him underneath the table, and Mark can admit he deserves that. He fiddles with the corner of the page, scanning through the same few equations until he gets tired of it. He zones out, watching as Donghyuck doodles in the margins of his multivariable calculus homework. 

“I’m going out tonight,” Donghyuck suddenly announces. “Yangyang’s. He invited me.”

Mark looks up to meet his eyes. It’s strange, what he sees; it’s like Donghyuck’s asking him to refuse, to tell him not to go.

“We have a psych test tomorrow,” Mark says, and Donghyuck averts his eyes back to the doodles crowding his paper. He shrinks in on himself, and when they make eye contact again, the look is gone, replaced so quickly by a familiar brightness that Mark can’t help but wonder if it’s artificial.

“I mean, this is only happening once, right? There won’t be something like this specific party again,” Donghyuck says.

“Okay,” Mark concedes quietly. “My parents won’t be home, so you can come whenever it’s over.” An open invitation. Donghyuck doesn’t need one, but Mark likes to offer it anyway. “Make sure you don’t drive back yourself.”

“I never do.” Donghyuck smiles, but it’s tight around the edges, and Mark knows he’ll see a similar one tonight, pinched to conceal the way his lower lip wobbles. “I’m gonna go meet up with Jaemin. Dance club is meeting after school and I still need to learn the choreography.” He slowly pushes himself away from the table and stands. The movements are sluggish, as if delaying his exit, but Mark watches in silence at Donghyuck trods away, disappearing among the sea of students.

Maybe he should’ve reached out, told Donghyuck not to go. But he’s never been one to make demands. Even when he should.  
  


—

Mark thinks it started in the summer.

It's nearly one a.m., and they should be asleep in their respective homes, but instead Donghyuck's beaten-down Volkswagen is parked outside on Mark's street and Donghyuck's sitting on Mark's bed. They both have assigned readings to finish and colleges to research about, and Mark's ticking clock counts down the seconds until dawn, when Donghyuck will have to leave to make it home before his mom wakes up. She's staying for the summer, and Donghyuck has seemed happier because of it.

"Eighteen," Donghyuck says with a wry smile. "You can check that one off of the bucket list."

Mark feels like having bucket lists for inevitable things is counterintuitive, but he shrugs. "I guess I can."

"How do you feel? Has the crushing weight of adulthood hit you yet?" Donghyuck asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, but he leans imperceptibly closer, interested in Mark's response. Unfortunately for him, Mark doesn't have much of one.

"Not really. I guess I can vote or something but…" Mark opens and closes his fist, staring at the hand. He isn't sure what he's looking for—maybe for his body to go up in flames or vanish into thin air. "Still the same. Kinda boring."

Donghyuck sighs, dejectedly blowing into the party horn he had stolen from the old birthday supply box stowed away in his family's basement. "Lame." He swings his legs to an irregular rhythm as he toys with the torn streamers strewn across his lap. “You excited for debt?”

Mark frowns at him. “Don’t you think I should get through college before worrying about that?"

"Yeah." Donghyuck wraps a red streamer around his wrist, as if it's a bracelet. "But it won’t be too bad for you, I guess. You're going to college here."

It's a statement, an accusation, and Mark is at a loss of words. "I—I mean, yeah. I like it here."

"I know."

The red streamer suddenly looks too harsh against Donghyuck's soft skin, so Mark tugs it away and winds it around his own wrist. The paper crinkles, stealing the silence with each fold until it's safely tucked between the pleats, and Mark says, rather conversationally, "You know, if I went out and robbed someone, they'd charge me like an adult.”

Donghyuck snorts, but his expression is far-away, eyes not quite focused. "Guess I need to fulfill my dreams of arson now, before I get too old," he jokes, but it's strained, forced through his cracked lips.

“You can always do it later. There’s no age limit on arson.” It’s unhelpful, and Mark knows that, but he’d rather fill the tension with a useless comment than let it linger in the air.

“Thanks,” Donghyuck drily replies. He fixes Mark with an amused look before letting it slide off his face, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know, it’s strange. You’re an adult and I’m… _not_.”

“I mean, you will be soon.” Mark tears off a corner of the streamer and balls it up. He throws it at Donghyuck, who easily flicks it away.

“Sounds great.” Donghyuck’s tone has become flat, emotionless, and Mark takes it as a sign to drop the topic. He watches as shadows dance on the walls and across Donghyuck's face, and looking back on it, that was the first time Donghyuck truly felt unreachable. 

He and Donghyuck creep out of the house and drive to the nearest convenience store. Mark buys a lottery ticket and they scratch it off under the light of a flickering street lamp with a coin Donghyuck dug out of his jacket pocket. It’s a waste of five perfectly good dollars, and Donghyuck makes fun of him all the way back to Mark’s house. 

Eighteen is a weird number, Mark thinks as he bids Donghyuck goodbye at sunrise. He feels the same, but he’s different in the eyes of the world, which watches on with a prying gaze and extends a crooked finger for Mark to take whenever he’s ready. 

Overall, It's not the perfect birthday, but the earth keeps turning and Mark decides that if this is all he's going to get, then he'll gladly take it.

—

Donghyuck is a tempest, fast and fierce, and Mark is desperate to catch up from where he stands on the ground.

He leaves in a flurry of wind and rain, yet wobbles back to Mark's house, to Mark's arms, because he knows Mark will be there to catch him. Every single time. It's what Mark has always done, even back when he and Donghyuck would sled down steep hills and Donghyuck would end up tumbling all the way down. Mark was always there, waiting at the bottom to catch him in a sturdy grasp.

Donghyuck knocks on Mark's window only once before Mark yanks it open, leading Donghyuck into his room with a gentle hand. His shirt is torn and his lips bitten raw, blood smeared on the edges.

A tick of the clock, and Mark's bringing Donghyuck to his bathroom.

A tick of the clock, and Mark's wiping Donghyuck's face with a damp towel.

A tick of the clock, and tears are pooling in Donghyuck's eyes. He refuses to let them fall.

Donghyuck doesn't say anything this time, instead fidgeting with his fingers with a downcast expression. Mark doesn't press, but the deep purple bruises peeking out from under his shirt tell him everything he needs to know.

After helping Donghyuck into some spare clothes, he eases Donghyuck into his side of the bed, gently pulling a blanket over his quivering body. There’s a crease between Donghyuck’s brows that refuses to give, no matter how many times Mark tries to smooth it out. 

"Why do you keep doing this stuff?" Mark finally asks, placing a glass of water on the right bedside table. He has aspirin in his back pocket, because he knows Donghyuck's going to wake up with a pounding headache the next day. He sets the packet of pills beside the glass before turning to Donghyuck. “You don't even like anyone at those parties."

"Don't wanna miss out on anything," Donghyuck says, words muffled by Mark's pillow. His eyes are shut and his breathing uneven, and the clock on Mark’s wall ticks and ticks until seconds bleed into minutes and Mark wonders what he's waiting for at all.

"You're always going to miss out on something," Mark eventually murmurs, carding a hand through Donghyuck's bangs. Donghyuck's forehead is matted with sweat, and Mark tries to wipe it dry with the sleeve of his old sweatshirt.

"I know." In the faint light of Mark's lamp, Mark sees that Donghyuck's eyes are still closed, and he thinks that's why Donghyuck's always preferred the cover of night—it helps him wheedle the world into believing he's a man with an armored heart and steely eyes. Unfazed and unflinching.

But Mark still sees the boy he's always seen, twelve years old with a heart too big for his chest as he waits for the rest of the world to catch up. The world doesn't catch up to things like that, though—it only pushes your heart down to surrender to it. It’s a fact Mark learned too late, but he isn’t sure if Donghyuck has ever truly realized it.

“Don’t worry about missing out on things,” Mark tells him. “Not everything is worth the worry.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Donghyuck scoffs. But there’s the hint of a smile and his hands are slowly releasing their grip on the blanket, so Mark slips next to him and wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s torso, pulling him close. 

The tension bleeds out of Donghyuck’s shoulders, and Mark counts his seconds with every soft inhale and exhale of Donghyuck’s parted lips. 

—

"College apps are basically you signing your life away," Donghyuck remarks through a spoonful of rice. Mark recognizes it as the fried rice Donghyuck's mom makes, and a part of him is relieved to know Donghyuck won't return to a silent house after school.

Mark huffs out a laugh. "I mean, you're going into a new chapter of your life. It's just how things are."

"You _pay_ them, too," Donghyuck continues as if he hadn't even heard Mark. He waves his metal spoon around with a scowl. "Hate it."

"Rich coming from someone who's so excited for college."

Donghyuck redirects his scowl to Mark, lip jutting out in a pout. "I'm just saying the process is unnecessarily convoluted."

Mark studies Donghyuck for a moment, who’s chewing on his lip and fidgeting with the plastic siding of the table they’re sitting at. "Are you worried you're not going to get into college?" Mark asks with an exaggerated gasp of shock.

"I am _not_!" Donghyuck flings a bit of rice at Mark before angrily stabbing at the remaining food in his thermos. "It's whatever. Just drop it."

"Well, where are you applying?" Mark presses anyways. Donghyuck's been rather secretive about his college choices, and he's curious. 

"Somewhere as far away from here as possible." Donghyuck closes his thermos with a metallic clang, and he slips it into his backpack.

"Why?"

"Can you blame me?" Donghyuck counters, and Mark falls silent, because no, he really can't. 

Donghyuck has always had dreams too big for a place like this, the tucked away suburbs of an oft-forgotten state. He shouldn’t be surprised; he’s lost count of how many times Donghyuck’s expressed wanting to leave here in search of someplace new. But now, hearing Donghyuck confirm it with his jaw set, resolute, it's like the beginning of the end; biding worry begins to build a home in the back of his mind, too far away for Donghyuck to see but close enough for it to whisper every terrifying possibility into Mark's ears. He's happy for Donghyuck, really, he'd do anything to see his best friend go off and make a name for himself. But the thought of Donghyuck disappearing from his life is painful, and he wonders if this is how it feels to have your heart cleaved in two.

Time is continuously stringing him along, and Mark has always tried to follow it without regret. Now, for the first time, time seems to be wrapped around his neck, a suffocating rope of thread, squeezing the air out of his lungs. It’s hard to breathe when he finally nods. “Fair enough.”

—

Donghyuck stumbles. He's never been this drunk, always bordering it but never quite crossing that threshold. His eyes are hazy, dimming, and a lump is trapped in Mark's throat. The window swings shut behind them, and Donghyuck's gripping Mark's arms for dear life, as if he's the only thing keeping Donghyuck from slipping away.

He settles Donghyuck into his bathroom as always, gingerly prying his arm out of Donghyuck’s grasp to grab a clean washcloth. He dampens it, and there's a harsh scoff, almost bitter. Mark allows a look in the mirror, and sees Donghyuck staring down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.

He turns towards Donghyuck and tries to reach for his hands, but Donghyuck pulls them into his lap. Just as he raises the cloth to Donghyuck's face, Donghyuck flinches away with a scowl. "I hate you," he snaps, batting away Mark's hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you."

"Donghyuck," Mark says gently, and everything sounds loud, too loud. "Hyuck, it's me. Stay with me until we can clean you up a bit and get you in bed, okay?"

"I _know_ it's you."

"Are you nauseous at all?" Mark continues, trying to distract Donghyuck from whatever stupor he's stuck in.

" _Mar_ _k Lee,"_ Donghyuck says, and Mark suddenly goes quiet, taking in Donghyuck's flushed face, the frown twitching on his lips. His eyes are becoming clearer, but they're swimming in sheltered pain, and Mark finally recognizes it as a particular sort of agony that Donghyuck has been drowning in for years. Never saying anything about it, not explicitly; just waiting for Mark to notice as he loses himself in it.

"Everything's falling apart," he says drily, chuckling to himself. It's rough and foreign. "All of my plans are fucked up."

Mark blinks—out of all the years he’s known Donghyuck, he’s never heard him be so outwardly negative. "What do you mean?" 

"When we were talking about college last week, I told you that I would leave here as soon as I can."

Mark's heart clenches in his chest at the mention of the conversation again. "Of course.”

"And, y’know, I couldn't wait to leave, to get out of this stupid place and finally go somewhere I belong. A city like New York or Los Angeles, full of people with dreams that couldn't give less of a fuck about each other. I was going to leave everyone behind. Leave all of this behind," Donghyuck spits out, waving a hand noncommittally. His voice is wavering, poorly concealed behind a feigned twist of his lips. "I had all these plans: go to a far away university, graduate, maybe go to Law School. Mark, I was ready to finally leave everything behind and become someone _new_. But I found something to stay for. I found something to stay for and I wish I didn't but here I am, and now I can't escape it."

Mark swallows, and his voice is thick when he asks, “What’s that?”

“You,” Donghyuck finally sobs, a hand coming up to cradle Mark’s face, “it’s you.”

"Donghyuck," Mark murmurs, and the way Donghyuck's face twists at the single word mirrors the way his stomach knots together. He wraps his arms around Donghyuck, warm skin-against-skin, grounding. "I'm not going anywhere," Mark whispers into his hair, rubbing a hand along Donghyuck's back. "I'm still here."

"That's the _problem_ ," Donghyuck says, a hand weakly pushing away at Mark's shoulders. Mark doesn't give in, keeping Donghyuck close until Donghyuck finally surrenders and collapses into Mark's solid frame. "I can't leave everything behind because you're here."

"You don't need to leave everything behind."

"I _need_ to, Mark." Tears soak through the thin fabric of Mark’s t-shirt, and Mark feels as if he’s been pushed underwater, hands blindly searching for Donghyuck to ensure he’s still there, he hasn’t vanished out of sight and out of reach. 

The bathroom is silent, save for Donghyuck's quiet sobs against Mark's chest and the ever-present clock in his room that weaves through the chipped tiles and rusted edges of mirrors, one thread. Each tick lengthens the thread, pulling Mark further into the future, and quite suddenly, Mark wishes that breaking the clock was enough to stop time.

Donghyuck’s eyes are a bloodshot red when Mark finally coaxes him into bed, pulling a blanket over him and placing a dry towel on the ground next to him, in case he gets nauseous during the night. 

Donghyuck tugs on the hem of his shirt once, and then Mark’s curling up next to him. He still smells vaguely like alcohol, but underlying it is a scent so distinctly _Donghyuck_ that Mark can’t bring himself to mind.

“You’re going to be alright,” Mark says against Donghyuck’s t-shirt, loose on his body and enveloping him.

“I don’t—” Donghyuck cuts himself off and silently pushes himself closer into Mark’s embrace, until his spine is pressed against Mark’s abdomen.

“I promise.”

Donghyuck doesn’t protest.

Mark focuses on Donghyuck’s hand curled around his, fingers twined together, and the suffocating thread begins to unwind into a single line that presses against the pads of his fingers as he walks alongside it. Slowly, steady, inching forward. It becomes a bit easier to breathe.

After all, they’ve made it work before. They can make it work again.

—

Early decision college applications are due, and somehow, it’s like the world’s shifted, tilting on its axis. As soon as Mark clicks the submit button, Donghyuck on the other end of the call, he makes a commitment to his future. It’s refreshing and strange all at once—he’s readying himself to move on to a new place in life, with new rules and responsibilities.

Change comes in small increments. Mark notices how his teachers become more lenient, how his future becomes a hot topic around the dinner table. Distant family members constantly ask him “what school are you going to?” as if he didn’t submit his application a literal week prior, and he’s stuck trying to explain with a rehearsed speech: “no auntie/uncle, I’m not sure yet, yes, I applied to Ivy Leagues, yes, I’ll let you know.”

He registers to vote, and it’s surreal when he sticks the letter in the mailbox, addressed to the state election department. There’s not even an election for another few years, but Mark figured it’s better early than never. Faintly, he thinks his U.S. Civics teacher must be proud of him, wherever she is, and he pats himself on the back for that.

Change is something school can never quite teach you, though. They tell you over and over again that it happens, that it’s normal, that it comes with time because while time’s constant, the world never is. But you never really comprehend change until it's right in front of you, rearing its ugly head and you’re stuck choosing: do you disregard it, or do you accept it and move on? 

Mark’s made his decision; it was the natural one, what felt right to him.

But despite that, he can see how both are equally appealing.

—

“Mark.”

Jaemin’s voice crackles through the phone, gravelly and distorted by background noise. There’s a sense of urgency underlying it, though, and Mark immediately sits up in his bed, pressing his phone closer to his ear as he blinks away the dots dancing in his vision.

“I know it’s late, but can you pick up Donghyuck? He’s—he’s not thinking straight. He kept saying he needed to drive back home but he almost fell over walking to his car. I would normally drive him back, but my car’s—”

“Yeah, no worries,” Mark cuts him off, already up and jogging into the kitchen to grab his keys from where they’re lying on the counter. “Can you take care of him until I get there? It’ll take ten minutes, max. Five if I speed.”

“Already doing that. He’s slowly sobering up, I think.” There’s rustling, and Mark hears Donghyuck mumble something, though it’s too quiet for him to make out the words. “Don’t speed,” Jaemin adds as an afterthought.

Mark yanks the front door open, kicks it shut behind him, and unlocks his car as he runs to the driveway. He slides into the driver's seat and turns the key in the ignition. There's a blanket sitting on the passenger seat, placed there in case of situations like this, but Mark turns on the heating anyways.

“Mark… can you talk to him?" Jaemin asks as Mark turns out of the neighborhood. "I don't know what's up with him. He’s been getting into fights over nothing—me and Jeno had to drag him away from Renjun earlier."

"I know," Mark sighs. "I've been the one cleaning him up. I can try to talk to him, but I don't know if he'll listen."

"You're the only person that can get through to him. Donghyuck—he's—" Jaemin's voice drops a few decibels before he continues, "he's really hurting. I don't know why, none of us do. We thought he was using this as an escape or something, but he treats parties completely differently than Renjun, so…" An agitated pause. "Just, talk to him, okay?"

"I promise I will," Mark says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. It’s a chance to make amends for all the times he let Donghyuck go, and Mark’s certain he’ll take the opportunity. For Donghyuck’s sake and his own.

"Good. Don't get into an accident. See you soon." Jaemin hangs up, and Mark exhales sharply, slowing to a stop at an intersection and leaning his head against the wheel. The dashboard clock reads two-thirty a.m. Donghyuck usually arrives at his house before two.

He pulls into Jaemin's driveway a few minutes later, and immediately spots Jaemin and Donghyuck sitting on the front doorstep, Jaemin's arm wrapped around Donghyuck's shoulders and Donghyuck slumped against him. Mark jogs up to them, trying to ignore the cold air nipping at his exposed arms. Jaemin brightens when he sees Mark come into view.

"Thanks for leaving your party to stay with him. Really," Mark says, as he bends down and takes Donghyuck's hand, who blinks dazedly up at him.

Mark helps Donghyuck to his feet, and Jaemin stands, brushing himself off. He waves a hand dismissively. "It's the least I could do. Just keep your promise, okay?" He nods at Mark and gives Donghyuck's shoulder a squeeze before disappearing back into his house.

“Let’s get you home,” Mark whispers, combing back the strands of hair falling on Donghyuck’s forehead. There's a bruise forming on his jaw, a shallow cut on his left cheek, and he's surrounded by a musty odor that Mark recognizes from the second-floor bathroom in the math hallways.

" _God_ , my head hurts," Donghyuck mumbles, but doesn't complain when Mark guides him to his car.

"I know, Hyuck."

They don't talk for most of the ride, the hum of the engine filling the silence as Mark drives them back to his house. Donghyuck's blinking away tears, tentatively touching the bruise on his jaw as if he can't fathom why it's there.

"I didn't even drink that much," he says finally. "Honestly, I didn't. I—"

"You smoked some weed, I know. I can smell it on your breath."

Donghyuck breathes into his palm and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose. "Oh."

"Are you—" Mark cuts himself off with a sigh. "Nevermind."

Donghyuck burrows deeper under the blanket draped across his lap.

Once they arrive back, Mark's able to clean up Donghyuck without a fuss. He's considerably more awake by the time Mark has him seated on his bed, cuts bandaged and clothes changed. He's picking at a loose thread on the sheets, not even trying to sleep. It's past three a.m. already, and Mark has never been more grateful for the existence of weekends in his life.

"What's going on, Donghyuck?" Mark asks. The question is blunt, almost uncharacteristic coming from someone who would hold the sky up for Donghyuck if asked. But he’s desperate for Donghyuck to listen to him and answer honestly, rather than offer placating promises with no real meaning. 

"I wouldn't mind if you genuinely enjoyed what you're doing, but you're being risky and it's dangerous. And it's not like you like this either." Donghyuck opens his mouth to protest, and Mark jabs a finger in his chest. "You don't like this. I know you, Hyuck, You don't like this. You never have. You're not happy."

Donghyuck doesn't meet his eyes, and that's when Mark knows he's broken through to Donghyuck. "I hate this," Donghyuck finally admits. "I hate what I'm doing."

"So why are you even doing any of this?"

“I don’t want to miss out.” It’s reminiscent of what Donghyuck had said a month ago, but the words are smaller somehow. Meeker.

Mark frowns. “But _why_ are you so scared of missing anything?”

"Because I've missed so much already," Donghyuck whispers as if it's a secret, spilling past his lips and into the small world of Mark's bedroom.

“When I was younger, I was so excited for the next thing. Ten, sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one, I kept those age milestones like the tokens we would always buy at the arcade in the mall—you know, the gold ones that would take up way too much space but we loved anyways.” Donghyuck draws in a shuddering breath, curling into himself. “But now it’s like—like the tokens are _everywhere_ and I’m so confused. I was so excited to be eighteen, but I’m seventeen now and I feel like I missed out on sixteen and fifteen and fourteen and everything before that.”

"Everything used to move by so slowly. I spent so long trying to be someone else that when I look back, I realize I really didn't have an identity for myself. When I was fifteen I was trying to be sixteen. When I was sixteen I was trying to be seventeen. But I don't want to be eighteen yet. Eighteen means you’re an adult, the end of childhood as the world suddenly gets tougher. I don't want that. Not when I haven't enjoyed my time left."

"You have a lot of time left, though," Mark points out. "You have, what, eight months? That's plenty of time, Hyuck."

Donghyuck's shoulders slump, and he hugs his knees to his chest. "Yeah, eight months. But they're going by too fast. It feels like I had a year left just yesterday. I can't keep up; I want time to slow down, I want to go _back_ , Mark. When nothing really mattered and no one actually cared if I didn't finish my multiplication worksheet or something. It was easier."

Donghyuck raises his head to meet Mark's gaze, and the clock ticks steadily from behind them, unyielding.

"It's always going to get harder," Mark says with a half-hearted shrug. "Getting stuck in what happened years ago is useless."

Donghyuck sighs. “I’m just going to leave here. I’ll find a way to guarantee that. And then it’ll be easier to move on."

Mark tilts his head at Donghyuck, and with each second, inches closer until he can feel the warmth radiating off of Donghyuck's skin, see every pore and blemish that makes up the strange, beautiful enigma of Donghyuck Lee. Donghyuck stays still, almost frozen, merely watching Mark with a stoic gaze, and that's when he understands: while Mark follows the thread of time, Donghyuck is split along it, one hand grasping at the future and the other clutching at the past. It's tearing him into two.

Mark takes Donghyuck's hands into his. They're trembling, and Mark runs a soothing thumb over the backs of them until the shaking begins to subside.

"Hyuck," he says, voice soft, "how are you expecting to leave your past behind if you can't stop looking back at it?"

Donghyuck flinches away at the question, as if it’s a dagger piercing his flesh, grazing bone.

“I can try. If I just remove myself from the past, then I can forget about it. Leaving will help.”

Every response, every firm insistence, it all leads back to the same idea: leaving. Leaving to escape undeniable truths, to try and retrieve what's been lost.

“You’re not leaving,” Mark says with a shake of his head. “You’re running away.”

“Mark—” It’s a warning. _Stop. Drop it. Let it go._

But Mark presses on, intent set.

"I know you have regrets about how you spent your time when we were younger. I get it, really. I would've spent _so_ much more time doing things that I loved. Enjoyed the freedom of having no real responsibilities. Maybe gone to that trampoline park before it closed down. But there's no point in dwelling on things like that. It's a missed opportunity, and that sucks ass, but that's in the past."

“You’re running away to try and get back some of the freedom you think you missed out on. But running away won't give you that do-over. You can't get it back like that, Hyuck. Freedom can exist, _still_ exists, but it's different when we’re twelve versus when we’re twenty-two.”

Donghyuck pulls his hands away from Mark, placing them flat on the bed. His brow is furrowed and he's shaking his head to himself; it's out of sync with the clock, but really, Donghyuck has never been in sync with it in the first place. Always too slow or too fast. “I—I need that freedom back. I can leave and fix my mistakes and get it back. No one knows me there—I can reshape myself there, be anyone I want.”

"Forgetting your past doesn't make it disappear. You can't relive childhood like that—it's a one time thing." Mark leans closer, desperate to ensure Donghyuck's listening to him. Even if he hates every word coming out of Mark's mouth. "Donghyuck, do you even want to go to those big cities? Will that make you happy? Or do you just like the idea of them, because you can get lost between those skyscrapers and crowds?”

“I don’t _know_.” The words are raw, ripped out of Donghyuck’s throat, and then Donghyuck’s bleeding icy blue fear that seeps through the sheets twisted in his hands. It’s sharp and sudden, and Donghyuck tries to make himself smaller under Mark’s gaze. It’s fruitless, though, because Donghyuck will always occupy every inch of Mark’s vision, center-frame and blinding.

“I’m fucking terrified, Mark. I just—I don't want to be here"—he waves a hand around—"anymore. I'm tired of this place."

Mark draws back with a swallow. "There are a lot of places that aren't here. I know you don't really like it here and that's okay. But you don't need to jump to the extremes, either. Do what you think will make you happy. Because in the end, that's the most important thing."

“But how the hell am I supposed to know what makes me happy?”

“You don’t.” Mark’s answer is simple, and Donghyuck sighs in exasperation. “Look, that’s why you try things. If you like something, then you keep doing it. If you don’t, then stop.”

“Yeah, but what if I _think_ I won’t like something, but then I end up liking it? I feel like it’s easier to take every opportunity to avoid regretting things again.”

“I mean”—Mark shrugs—“it’s a leap of faith. Regrets are about missing things you would’ve wanted. Not every single opportunity. And when you take those opportunities, you really just have to _live_ in them, if you get what I mean.”

“Sure,” Donghyuck deadpans. 

“Okay, okay, wait. What are we doing now?”

“Sitting on your bed. Talking,” Donghyuck replies duly, not bothering to hide the incredulity that tinges his voice. “Look, what’s the—”

“What are you thinking about?” Mark interrupts.

Donghyuck takes longer to answer this one. “The future, I guess. The rain outside. How warm your bed is.” Donghyuck tilts his head at Mark. “You.”

Mark bites back a smile. “Really, now.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck admits easily. “Now get to your point before I fall asleep.”

“Impatient, much?” 

Donghyuck wordlessly jabs a finger at the clock, reading well past four a.m., and Mark throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, everything I asked you are all things that are happening _now_.” He looks expectantly at Donghyuck, checking for any sign of realization. Donghyuck cocks a brow, but otherwise doesn’t look very impressed.

“I feel like it’s easier to be happy if you focus on the now, you know, live in the moment. If you notice every little detail, it sort of slows down time and helps draw it out. It can also really make you think ‘hey, do I like what’s going on right now?’ At least, that’s helped me.”

That seems to bring a reaction out of Donghyuck, whose eyes slightly widen in interest. “But like… what if I mess up the"—Donghyuck makes a face—"the _now_."

"Then you just move on. Learn what made you mess up, and move on. If you miss an opportunity, then try to seize it next time. If you don't like what you're doing, then stop. You have a control over your decisions, and _that's_ the most control you'll ever have over your future."

“I guess.” It’s a lackluster response, but Donghyuck’s chewing on his lip, clearly considering everything Mark has said. 

“It’ll get easier if you keep at it.” Mark pats his knee. “It takes time, just like literally everything else. Time and practice."

“But this will be worth the time,” Donghyuck murmurs.

Mark smiles. “Worth every second.” 

—

“Merry motherfucking Christmas,” Donghyuck says as he climbs into Mark’s bedroom, a bottle of vodka in hand.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Mark corrects with a roll of his eyes, looking up from the guitar perched on his lap. Donghyuck slips off his shoes and pads over where Mark’s sitting on his bed. He stands there for a second, taking in the wooden body of the guitar before shifting his gaze to Mark himself, eyes flitting ardently over every feature until Mark feels as if he’s been stripped bare.

Donghyuck offers a grin before settling next to Mark, twisting the bottle in his hands in sync with the incessantly ticking clock. “Whatever. It’s boring at home right now, so I’m here to be bored together.” 

“Is your mom not home?”

Donghyuck sighs and shakes his head. “She’s coming back tomorrow. Her flight got delayed.”

‘You’re lucky we just came back from church,” Mark says with a pluck of a guitar string. It rings out, and Donghyuck hums the same pitch. 

“A?” he guesses, as if he doesn’t already know he’s right. The curse of chorus kids. 

Mark strums through a random melody before turning to Donghyuck, giving him his full attention. 

“I was thinking about pulling out my old PS4, if you wanted to play?” 

Donghyuck grins. “You don’t need to ask.” He scrambles onto the floor and yanks out the console from where it’s stowed away in a box. Mark hasn’t touched it in a while, so Donghyuck blows off the dust from the top before opening it and grabbing the black console. He hooks it to Mark’s small wall-mounted T.V. with practiced ease. Handing one controller to Mark, he takes the other one in his hands and starts up the console.

“It’s a crime for you to ignore something as perfect as a PS4,” Donghyuck mutters sourly, fishing in the box on his lap for a disk to insert.

“I lost interest,” Mark explains awkwardly, and shrinks under the scathing glare Donghyuck sends him. 

“Tasteless,” he snipes. “Thank god I took care of your PS4 back in sophomore year.”

“Sneaking into my house to play on my PS4 was not taking care of it,” Mark replies with a raised eyebrow, and Donghyuck grins.

“That sounds like care to me. You always said you felt bad about it gathering dust, so I was doing you a favor, ‘cause once I stopped playing”—he gestures at the console—“it _did_ get covered in dust.”

The game eventually boots up, throwing them into a cutscene that Donghyuck watches with unrivaled glee. 

Donghyuck then walks him through the controls, but after fifteen minutes of trying, Mark eventually gives up, tossing his controller behind him on the bed. He’s pretty sure this is one of the games Donghyuck had convinced him into buying—he has absolutely no recollection of ever playing it before. Donghyuck offers to play something else, but Mark vehemently shakes his head; there’s something genuinely enjoyable about seeing Donghyuck so happy over something as simple as a video game. 

Mark mindlessly strums a few chords on his guitar as Donghyuck intently stares at the screen, his tongue peeking out of the side of his mouth as he taps away at the controllers. They exchange a few words here and there, occasionally punctuated by a string of curses as Donghyuck’s character dies on screen. It’s comfortable, sitting side-by-side like this, enjoying each other’s company without saying much.

It’s so simple, something they’ve always done. 

And it’s so foolish, but Mark wants this all for as long as time will allow him.

Donghyuck leaves once the clock hits midnight, a whispered “Merry Christmas” before hopping out of Mark’s window and onto the ground. 

He waits until Donghyuck texts him a confirmation that he got home safely before doing anything else. Once he gets it, he goes to the bathroom, and as he splashes water on his face, he catches sight of his own reflection. 

In the mirror, he sees the same smile he wore at twelve years old, too wide and too bright, but he thinks he’s grown into it. He still has some growing to do, still has some baby fat on his cheeks that hasn’t quite melted away, but with each passing year the smile fits more comfortably on his lips. He prods at his cheeks and wonders if in a few years it’ll give way to the sharp cheekbones his mother always mentions him being blessed with.

As Mark’s about to crawl into bed, he notices the bottle Donghyuck had brought, still sealed and sitting on the floor. 

—

“We’re going out,” Donghyuck announces, pulling the hood of his bright blue sweatshirt over his head. “Tomorrow is Saturday, so you can’t use homework as an excuse not to.”

The cold January air bites at Mark’s lips, turning them chapped, so he merely nods.

Donghyuck grins and fishes his keys out of his pocket to unlock his Volkswagen, and Mark slips into the passenger side. Donghyuck presses his keys into the ignition with one hand, buckling himself in with another. He pulls out of the school parking lot and into a side road.

The heating is warm, but their clasped hands over the divider are warmer. Mark connects his phone to the aux cord, and residual Christmas music plays between the rap songs from one of the playlists he randomly clicked on.

"You need to clean this out," Donghyuck remarks as Mariah Carey blasts through the speaker. "It's been nearly a month since Christmas."

"Never too late to get in the Christmas spirit. Or too early."

Donghyuck huffs. "Eleven months too early." He drums his fingers against the steering wheel to the melody despite his complaints. "By next Christmas, we'll be away in different parts of the country."

Mark frowns. "Are you not planning on coming back for it?" 

Donghyuck glances away from the road for a second to meet Mark's eyes. His gaze is amused, yet soft around the edges. "Oh, no, I'll be back." He gives Mark's hand a light squeeze before drawing away and fiddling with the top of the gear stick. "We have time until then." He slams down the acceleration, switches to a higher gear, and the car lurches forward. Mark isn't sure if that's the reason his heart jumps in his chest.

Donghyuck cheers as they curl around backroads and sail over hills far faster than the speed limit, just to feel the wheels rise off the concrete on the descent. He rolls his window down, and the wind whips at their hair, wild and untamed. There's a modicum of freedom here, fleeting but tangible all the same, and Mark basks in it. It's like he and Donghyuck are on equal footing, suspended between the earth and the sky. 

“So where are we going?” Mark finally asks as they approach a stop sign, and Donghyuck shrugs, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“Anywhere we want.”

Mark smiles and sits back in his chair, melting into the worn leather. "Sounds good to me."

They careen past thick woods and desolate roads, taking turns to shout out directions. Mark's half-convinced they've been traveling in circles for the past fifteen minutes, but he can’t bring himself to care. Every turn leaves Donghyuck whooping in joy, and Mark, breathless.

Donghyuck breaks out of routine and continues to drive straight for a few extra minutes, and Mark suddenly recognizes the stump of a lightning-struck tree on the shoulder of the road—he hasn’t been around this area for a while, but the view is unmistakable. 

“Turn right here,” he instructs at the intersection, and Donghyuck nods with a twist of the steering wheel. Once he enters the street, he lets out a small gasp of realization, and Mark grins.

"I haven't been here in ages," Donghyuck mumbles, taking the final turn into the mall parking lot. "It looks the same."

“I mean, it's not like it got demolished or anything."

Donghyuck shoots him a glare as he pulls the car into a parking spot. “It’s just… _exactly_ the same. Like stuck in time,” he explains as they cross the concrete lot to reach the entrance. They duck into the mall, and Donghyuck immediately beelines to the backmost store.

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck whispers, taking in the arcade’s storefront, loud and cluttered and overall the most enticing sight to any kid alive.

“Holy shit indeed.” Mark hasn’t seen the arcade in years, but it looks almost identical to the last time they came here, Donghyuck’s thirteenth birthday party. It doesn’t _feel_ like the magical place he revered for years, but it’s pretty damn close.

“They’re going out of business,” Donghyuck says with a frown, reading off the yellow sign plastered to the window. Sure enough, in large letters, it lists next saturday as the final closing date.

Mark lightly elbows him in the side. “Hey, then we might as well enjoy this, right? One last time?”

Donghyuck grins, eyes sparkling. "Might as well." He grabs Mark’s hand and leads him through the doors, into the brightly-lit arcade, the whirring of hundreds of games filling the air.

They pool their money together and end up with two cups full of golden tokens. Donghyuck bounds off to the nearest game. He sidles up next to Donghyuck, and it’s like they’re preteens all over again, free from responsibility or any real strife. Mark lets himself enjoy the moment, presses himself against Donghyuck as Donghyuck pouts at the claw machine dropping his plushie for the second time. 

He spends the time observing the arcade itself as well, committing it all to memory as nostalgia crashes on him in waves. The cheap glow-in-the-dark stars embroidered on the carpet, the tinted lights turning everything a pale shade of blue, it all feels like something out of a dream. Soon, when the arcade closes down, it’ll be one—a secret shared by those who once knew what occupied the space before whatever clothing store comes to replace it. But for now, it’s a sectioned-off world for them to enjoy.

When Donghyuck isn’t looking, Mark slips two tokens into his own pocket, for later. Just in case.

—

Donghyuck leaves in a quiet rush of goodbyes, but not to a place with towering skyscrapers and consuming crowds. He leaves to a small city, a blend of familiar and foreign. 

“I think I’ll like it there,” he had admitted to Mark on the day he made his decision. “The school is really nice. I’ll be happy there.”

Mark had smiled. “Then that’s all that matters, right?”

He had insisted on sending Donghyuck off, but it didn’t take much convincing anyways. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t want to see me go,” Donghyuck had said. 

He drives over alone, quickly finding Donghyuck and his mother in the mouth of the terminal. They’re talking, and Donghyuck’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Mark hangs back, a courteous distance away, and watches as Donghyuck pulls her into a hug.

As soon as he notices Mark, he beckons him over, eyes shining with excitement. Donghyuck’s mom greets Mark before giving Donghyuck a final smile. “Don’t forget to text me,” she says before leaving, and Donghyuck nods. 

“I was waiting for you,” Donghyuck says, his voice breathless.

“Well, I’m here now.” Mark grins. “You ready?”

“Holy _shit_ , yeah.” Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hand and tugs him forward. “Don’t miss me too much,” he whispers, breath warm against Mark’s cheek. 

And, well, Mark can’t exactly promise that, but he rolls his eyes and murmurs, “I won’t.”

“I won’t be physically here, but I’ll always be around to talk to, Mark. It’s your turn to rely on me.” Donghyuck leans closer, and then there’s a gentle brush of lips against his cheek, gone as soon as it comes. Mark blinks, tracing the area with a tentative finger.

Donghyuck pulls something out of his pocket, and there’s a glint of gold under the cheap airport lights: the token Mark had pressed into his hand the night before without warning.

He winks. “See you soon.”

With that, he strolls away, a hand wheeling his suitcase behind him. Mark watches as he disappears down the escalator, bright blue sweatshirt standing out from a sea of grey. 

When he’s out of sight, Mark shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to his car. Settling in the driver’s seat, he pulls out a gold token of his own from the glove compartment, still as shiny as the day Mark took it from the arcade. As he runs his fingers along the grooves, he wonders how long the gleam will stay before it fades to a dull brown. But then again, perhaps it doesn’t really matter.

He places it on top of the neatly-folded blanket on the passenger seat, starts the car, and drives back to his house with quiet Christmas music playing through the speaker. 

Once he steps into his room, he sees a new message from Donghyuck: a selfie of him sitting in his airline seat, holding a thumbs up for the camera, and captioned with ‘ _ur not allowed to forget abt me btw.'_

 _‘i could never’_ Mark types back. 

_‘i’ll be back before u know it’_ Donghyuck replies, and Mark believes him.

The clock ticks from behind him, counting down the seconds until Mark will see Donghyuck again. Sometime in the future; maybe a few months, maybe an entire year. He’s not worried, though. Time threads through the world, steady and unyielding, but for Mark, he knows it’ll always lead back to Donghyuck. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> they always find their way back to each other, even in nct itself:]  
> hope you enjoyed<3  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/jisunflwer) & [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jisunflwr)


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